


bruises on your thighs like my fingerprints

by thorkidumpster



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Mob, Daddy Kink, Kinky kink kink, Loki Has Issues, Loki is a twisty shit, M/M, Mob AU, Mob Boss Thor, Plotting, Praise Kink, Prostitution, Scheming, but not underage, on Loki's end ofc, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 19:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8546437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorkidumpster/pseuds/thorkidumpster
Summary: Look at me, Loki says without words. Want me.Yes, this little baby boy has been trained well.Loki's tight shorts are his last bastion of modesty. He squirms for his Daddy as Thor trails a hand down his slender torso and over his soft belly. Thor rests for a moment there, feeling the sinuous pull of Loki's abdominal muscles and the flexing of his billowing breaths. It's an unguarded, intimate feeling, too much so, and Thor moves on with due haste.Besides, there are greater treasures waiting to be uncovered.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluesoldier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesoldier/gifts).



> this is written for Lyam aka mangakasoldier, who knows exactly what he did.

  


* * *

  
Thor rubs his temples with two thick fingers, then strips off his bloody suit jacket. “Get him out.”

His men hook their hands under the dead man's armpits and drag him out, leaving a trail of gore. Messy. Too messy.

Usually Thor keeps things clean; neat. Broken, not dead. That was the key—a missing man meant nothing. A death behind doors was a waste. Better to tear every last shred of fight from the dissenters, then stick 'em back on the front lines.

Let the others see.

Let them fear.

Running this syndicate was all about fear.

Thor can already hear the footsteps of the cleaner; a implacable woman that worked for his father, and before that, his grandfather. She had been a stable fixture in Thor's life, and a cruel part of him was immensely glad she refused to retire.

She enters without knocking, then tuts in a way that makes Thor blurt out an apology for the mess. “Shh. I'm teasing,” she says. Her blue eyes crinkle when she smiles.

Frigga had been in this business since she was fifteen—fifty years. Nothing bothered her; not blood or brains or any of the foul, odorous shit that can leak out of a human body. Thor remembers sitting on her knees and holding the hands that had wiped away death in his own small ones—how soft the skin was, how tenderly she stroked his head with them.

She never asks questions, but he always feels compelled to tell her, like a sinner confessing. “He was cheating us. Stole nearly a half a million and was planning on running to some island.”

Frigga hums. “Take that half a million and send someone who deserves it on vacation, then.”

“I could send you,” Thor teases.

“Hmph! And who would keep an eye on you?”

“Can't tattle on me to Dad anymore, Frigga.” He steps around the mess and offers her his cheek.

“That you know,” she says in an ominous tone, but relents and hugs him tight. The kiss she leaves on his cheek feels like home. “Go. Take a break. I hear Ronan has a surprise for you.”

Intriguing.

Thor strips off his tie as he exits his office, ready for the day to be over with. The thought of sinking into his warm bed and sleeping for a day or two is almost more tempting that Ronan's 'surprise', but... it's the idea of _who_ he might be falling into bed with that has Thor dialing Ronan's number.  


* * *

  
Thor removes his jacket as he enters his private apartments. Ronan's _surprise_ will be here with a half hour or so, and Thor paces, eager for a body to fuck. He needs to work this betrayal from his system.

He pours a small glass of bourbon and cuts a sure path to his bedroom. It's immaculate, of course, thanks to Frigga and her staff. While he waits, he sits on the bed and digs into the file and background check Ronan handed him on the hooker. He pays careful attention to the details, just to be sure after the _last_ time. Twenty, orphaned, high school drop out. Standard enough. Most importantly, his health records are clean.

A knock startles him, and Thor's hand jerks towards a gun that's not there.

But it's nothing—not a threat, at least. “Enter,” he says.

The boy looks young.

Thor's fingers tremble and yes, it's the same boy in the file's photograph—Ronan did good. Loki stands in front of him, in a loose racing-back shirt and teeny shorts, all soft legs and wide eyes, his thick black hair kissing the tops of his shoulders. 

“Daddy,” Loki says, voice wavering. He feigns shyness, turning his head away. “Please don't stare like that...”

“Like what?” Thor says gruffly. “Like you aren't the prettiest little boy I've ever seen?”

A smile touches Loki's lips, hesitant, as though as isn't sure he's allowed.

Thor waves him over. Loki comes easily, nestles himself in Thor's lap like he actually wants to be there. “I'm not that pretty, Daddy.”

“You are.” He runs his hand over Loki's slim thighs, white as come, the skin stripped bare and silky. He's been waiting for this—a chance to feed this monster of tenderness in him. It's a weakness, the urge he has to care for sweet boys like Loki, to dote on them and spoil them rotten. Kiss them in their secret places.

He has to keep it in check, because kindness is all the wrong currency in his business. More liable to get him killed.

He's been through four babies. Loki's his fifth, hopefully his last.

“Precious baby boy,” he sighs, feeling Loki squirm against him, the little puffs of his breath delicate and so, so fucking arousing. “Have you been a good boy?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Loki whimpers.

Thor hums and leans forward to mouth at Loki's tantalizing neck, chuckling at the gasp Loki gives when he sucks gently on the boy's bobbing Adam's apple. “I believe it,” he groans, his huge hands palming the tight swell of a perky ass. “You're so good. Look at you. So good for your Daddy, baby, he just wants to eat you up...”

He knows it's just an act, the way Loki trembles under his assault as though he were senselessly overwhelmed—he could probably guess the exact coaching Ronan gave him: _“Call him Daddy and be a good boy; he doesn't like the snarky, bratty routine.”_

Not precisely accurate—Thor would just rather reward than punish. He does enough punishing during the day.

Loki begins to work his hips in tight little circles, grinding on Thor's dick and earning that ass a hard squeeze.

“Lift your shirt for me, baby—that's a sweetheart, just throw it on the floor, it's fine...”

Loki's chest is as lean and pale as the rest of him, his nipples two delicious pink dots on the white backdrop; Thor's mouth goes dry with want. He leans forward to snatch a sweet nub between his teeth and greedily suckles at it. It's heaven—he's in heaven, with Loki's fingers tangled in his thick hair, holding his head in place, chest heaving from the great gulps of air the poor boy's taking.

Once satisfied with the tender bruise on one nipple, Thor kisses his way to the other and tortures it just like it's brother, until Loki wheezes out a _please, please, Daddy, please, no—_

So Thor pulls back to admire his handiwork—and it's _gorgeous_. Loki, to Thor's immense satisfaction, doesn't turn a dusty, reserved pink—no, he _burns_ , with huge splotches of red blazing down his torso. 

Loki gives a plaintive cry, his lower lip wobbling and wet. There's little indents from where he'd bitten down on it and Thor leans up to kiss him, kiss him, kiss him until Loki's dull nails scratch at the nape of Thor's neck.

“ _Ahh—_ ” Loki gasps when he's finally free, his mouth now as red as his chest. “Daddy...” he wibbles, “Daddy, wanna have your cock, daddy, c'mon, please...”

“Dirty mouth,” Thor chastises, but there's no heat in it because _fuck_ does he want to give Loki his cock, too. So he eases himself back on the bed and Loki comes with him, though he makes the cutest _umph!_ at the jostle.

The sound lights Thor's blood on _fire_. Loki's sweet bow lips pout at him, and here, like this, tight in Thor's arms, he smells of ripe boy and something like candy—Thor noses at the base of Loki's throat for more and Loki arches to let him.

He rolls them over, so Loki's back is flat on the bed and he's caged in by Thor. Loki turns his head, showcasing the milky skin of his collar contrasted his his dark, rich hair and yes—he can see it now, the spark of deviant knowledge in Loki's eyes, the purposeful way he draws Thor's gaze to his tender areas.

 _Look at me,_ he says without words. _Want me._

Yes, this little baby boy has been trained well.

Loki's tight shorts are his last bastion of modesty. He squirms for his Daddy as Thor trails a hand down his slender torso and over his soft belly. Thor rests for a moment there, feeling the sinuous pull of Loki's abdominal muscles and the flexing of his billowing breaths. It's an unguarded, intimate feeling, too much so, and Thor moves on with due haste.

Besides, there are greater treasures waiting to be uncovered.

Loki mewls when Thor reaches his shorts. He wants to savor this, to pull them down slowly and frame that hiding cock—to tease Loki until he wails Thor's name—but it's been too long, too long since Thor's last fuck and he _needs_ Loki's ass.

But still, Thor doesn't rip the denim like he wants to. Rather, he rolls the fabric down Loki's hips and over his shivering legs.

“Look at you,” Thor whispers, and is rewarded by a tensing of Loki's thighs. “So beautiful, my baby boy—mine, mine.” He bends Loki's knees up to expose the pink furl of Loki's hole. “Oh, yeah... you're mine, baby boy, all mine now.”

Loki's cock is so fat it looks to be bursting and Thor can't help but to smirk.

He leans down to nuzzle at the junction of Loki's thigh and ass. “I'm going to kiss your pretty hole, cutie, and you're going to be a good boy and say my name. Aren't you?”

“ _Yes, Daddy_.” Loki's lips stay parted as Thor lowers himself down to his task.

The first swipe—it's amazing, a burst of salty, coppery flavor and Loki's throaty moan above him. As he digs in deeper, Loki begins to chant _Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!_ and Thor's chest swells with pride for his boy so he pushes harder, let's his tongue swirl around his hole until it opens for him like warm butter.

Here Thor's tastes something faint and chemically sweet. A lube of some type, most likely, and the thought of Loki fumblingly coating his fingers with lube to jam into his hole in case Thor happened to be some sort of monster—

Well, he was, but not like _that_.

His tongue goes soft, and he lets himself fall into the heady rhythm of eating ass. Loki's an undulating wave above him, gasping and twisting and cussing in a way that merits a spanking. His brave fingers twine themselves into Thor's hair, urging him forward, more, more, more, and Thor chuckles because he can't remember the last time anyone dared to try to direct him in bed.

So he kisses Loki's hole like he would a lover, making sure to lick all the foreign lube from his body to tenderly replace with his own—Loki is _his_ boy now, his and only his, and Thor takes loving care of his things.

Loki's cries reach deafening heights, only the peter out with distinct disappointment when Thor pulls away to admire his handiwork. Loki's hole is puffy and ready, he thinks for a good fingering and better dicking.

Thor fumbles in the beside drawer for the bottle of lube—it's expense, costs more than some people make in a _day_ , but the consistency is silky smooth and light. When he smears it on Loki's hole, he startles.

“Daddy!” Loki frowns. “But I'm already...”

“Hush,” Thor says. “Let me.” He kisses the skin of Loki's knee. 

Loki relaxes and soon, his panting returns, only now, Thor has the pleasure of watching Loki's face tighten—the long veins of his throat thump out as he casts his head back—the tortured rise and fall of his chest—

And his begging, oh god.

“Please, Daddy! Please, please, please—want your cock, want your come, please—”

Better than an angelic choir. 

But Thor takes his time, stretching his hole until he's sure Loki can take him without the bat of an eyelash. “You're so good for me,” he praises. “So perfect. I want wait to be in this ass, Loki, I can't wait—”

In a flash, Loki's long foot flies out and kicks Thor in the side. “So get in it already!”

Thor stops with a startle. “That,” he says, “was naughty.”

Loki looks gloriously unrepentant and he opens his legs as wide as they'll go. “Oops?” the cheeky little shit says, flashing his baby eyes, lips curved into an unmistakably smirk. “Better punish me, Daddy,” he says seriously. “Fuck me hard so I don't act out again.”

Thor cocks his head. “Fuck you? I should spank you.”

In response, Loki just clenches own on Thor's fingers. His cock is so far past screaming for attention, Thor's surprised it hasn't just jumped out of his pants on its own. 

“Don't think you'll always get your way,” Thor warns, but it's hollow in the face of Loki's pout.

He removes his fingers with care, but strips quickly, not giving half a shit as lube smears and stains his nice shirt and pants. Loki watches the show with hooded eyes, satisfied, and the smirk grows like a twisting vine in summer as Thor's bobbing cock is revealed. He licks his lips, and oh yes, Thor's going to fuck that mouth one day, make him choke on it, make him _cry_ —

But not today.

Loki scoots his butt farther back on the bed and Thor follows him, caught in the pull of his gravity well. Loki holds out his thin arms, looking so damn smug Thor just wants to bite him—it's a far cry from the hesitance earlier, but just as tantalizing.

“Fuck me, Daddy?”

Thor covers his mouth in a kiss and manhandles Loki's hips up; he slides in—he slides in—his brain goes fuzzy from the slick heat of his ass. Thor feels himself begin to shake as the day just washes away from his soul and Loki's body welcomes him in.

 _Mine, mine, mine_ is all he can think as his hips pump like they were born to do. _Mine, mine, mine_ because this was it, Loki was his now, no arguing, all deals sealed.

 _I'm going to take such good care of you_ and Thor's surprised when he feels those words in his throat, when Loki arches in response, his eyes dewy and delightfully candid.

Loki's words have been reduced to nothing more than _please_ and _Daddy_ , and yes, that's how it should be. He bounces with each thrust, legs and arms wound tight around Thor, fingers scraping against the muscles of his back, unable to fully reach around him. His cock rubs mercilessly against Thor's abdomen, leaving a smear of stickiness that only grows with each whimper.

Ten dull nails dig in and that's it—that's it, Thor lets the spring inside his belly snap. There's time later to tease Loki until he screams but god Thor needs—Thor needs—

His balls pump Loki full of come and yes, that's exactly what he needs.

Though not so much for Loki, because he brings Thor down from his high with smarting slap on the back and a grunted, “Daddy, don't you dare leave me like this—”

Such a demanding little baby and Thor loves it. He watches, dazed, as Loki gets fed up with waiting and jerks his own leaking cock until he's coming, too, and Thor just lets his head fall forward as Loki's ass tightens with each pulse of his orgasm around his softening dick. 

“Good boy,” Thor praises muzzily. “Come here, c'mere.”

He tries to bring Loki on the bed proper, but Loki's a squirming worm until he's on the outer edge, facing the bedside table. Thor makes quick work of cleaning them, reaching down and snatching the first thing he finds—his own boxers—and wiping the worst of the come off their bellies.

“You're staying,” Thor says and throws his arm over Loki to head off any argument.

“I'm leaving,” Loki counters, “long enough to turn off the light.”

Thor snorts, but lifts his arm. A second later, the light clicks off and the world goes dark and liquid. With one sense cut off, the others come alive and Thor can feel every twitch of Loki's warm body, smell the sweat mixed with his faded perfume, and hear the deep, even breathing of the boy, like he hadn't just been fucked six ways to Sunday.

And in that warm, comforting dark, Thor drifts off.  


* * *

  
In the dark, Loki's hand reaches out. There's a flip phone in the pocket of his discarded shorts, and the light from the backscreen is blinding, even on dim. 

There's only one contact on the list, labeled _Father_.

His thumbs move lightning quick over the T9 buttons.

_Im in. pkg eta three months_  


* * *

  


**Author's Note:**

> sometimes i [tumbl.](thorkidumpster.tumblr.com)


End file.
